


Maybe it's Time for Miracles [Frerard]

by ephemerality (allthingsangelic)



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fanfiction, M/M, My First Fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-05-27 14:36:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6288421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthingsangelic/pseuds/ephemerality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the most terrifying things someone could ever experience is having your memory wiped out, or rather, forgeting it. It's like waking up in a different body, with a different life and with different people around you, except, it's not. It's still you, but the terrifying thing about it is that, you just aren't aware of it. </p><p>And maybe Gerard Way felt the same way to some extent-- being forgetful that is. What he doesn't know is that it's more than just being forgetful, it's something more serious. But he refuses to believe that, no- Gerard knows that he's perfectly fine, lonely, but fine.</p><p>And the boy with the sad, hazel eyes seems to prove that belief even more. The hazel eyes that he just couldn't forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ➸Pretty, Handsome, Awkward.

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my first Frerard fic, let's see how this goes... (fic is also available on wattpad under @themethaneskies)

➹

 

➹

 

Frank never liked being close to people.

He was just about ready to strangle anyone who came too close as he anxiously sat at his booth in the coffee shop.

The five foot man was claustrophobic and the fact that the coffee shop he was at was rather crowded did not help with his slight paranoia. He had forced himself at the very end of the booth, his coffee held close to his chest as he tried to breathe properly.

More and more people entered the shop, therefore making it more crowded--which wasn't hard seeing that the coffee shop wasn't that big of a venue.

Frank suddenly wondered why he was stupid enough to choose this coffee shop, of all the others. Obviously, this shop wasn't a spacious one and oh god, Frank just wanted to get out.

Although he had barely touched his coffee, Frank decided that it was time to go. He stood up, took his coffee with him, and hurriedly went out of the shop.

He breathed out a sigh of relief as he finally left the crowded shop and made a quick turn to an alleyway that led to his apartment.

He shuddered as he felt a rush of cool wind brush by and mentally cursed himself for not bringing a jacket with him. He wrapped his arms around himself, still managing not to spill his coffee, and let out a shaky breath. One of the things Frank absolutely _hated_ besides feeling like he was going to die of suffocation, was feeling like he was going to freeze his balls off. Oh, and spiders, too.

Frank's apartment wasn't far from the shop, so it didn't take long until he was in front of the door and searching for his keys to enter. He took a sip of his coffee as he shut the door behind him and proceeded then to sit on his uncomfortable, squeaky couch.

He cringed slightly as he heard the couch emit an annoying sound every _single_ time he moved. Finally, he had found a comfortable position and the couch didn't produce that annoying squeak anymore.

It was in the silence of his apartment that he was struck with the realization that he was lonely. Frank looked around his apartment in search of anything that could entertain him, his eyes landed on his movie collection (which consisted of more or less 6 DVDs) and groaned. He had already watched them for more than five times each. He thought about going to work but then frowned as he remembered that it was a Saturday, he only ever worked on Tuesdays and Thursdays as a staff in some record store. He turned on the TV to look for anything interesting to watch, no luck.

He then stood up to gaze outside the windows, he thought of going to the park which was just a walking distance from his apartment and suddenly felt the strong urge to have a smoke or two. Finishing the remnants of his coffee, he once again took his keys and locked the door as he left his apartment, and this time, he remembered to bring a jacket.

►▻ ► ▻►▻ ▼ ◅◄ ◅◄ ◅◄ ◅

The walk to the park wasn't that long and as soon as he arrived, he lit up a cigarette and let out an appreciative sound as he felt it warm his insides. He stood silently nearby the smoking area, watching as people passed by and children running and making their way to the playground, shifting his weight from one foot to another ever so often.

He lived for moments like this. The feeling of contentment as he inhaled his cigarette, nicotine surely to do damage to his lungs, but let's not think about that.

Frank was halfway through his fourth smoke when a voice interrupted the silence.

"You do know that those are killer, right?" Frank turned around to find the source of the voice and shot him a confused look. The stranger noticed his confused expression and gestured towards the cigarette Frank held between his two fingers

The stranger was a boy, and Frank's eyebrows raised slightly at his bold choice of hair color; red. Unlike his hair, his clothes were purely black, void of color. A the Misfits shirt, black skinny jeans, and a pair of black ragged sneakers complemented the stranger's pale complexion--

The boy with fiery red hair cleared his throat, snapping Frank out of his thoughts.

"Oh- uh, yeah..?" Frank managed to answer. The stranger merely nodded before he took out his hand from the pocket of his jeans. "I'm Gerard, Gerard Way." The red haired boy introduced.

"Frank..." he hesitantly reached and shook Gerard's hand. Gerard watched him with an amused expression, "Just Frank?" he asked.

"Yeah-uh, no... I'm Frank Iero." Frank seriously wanted to stabbed himself right then and there, his cheeks reddened due to embarrassment.

The playful glint in Gerard's eyes never left as he faced the direction Frank was facing earlier. "So, may I know why a fine young man like you is trying to kill himself?" Gerard asked _all too casually_.

Frank's eyes went wide at the statement as he faced him, "I... I'm not trying to kill myself."

Gerard nodded again as Frank continued to finish his fourth cigarette. "The way you're smoking could give people other ideas." he said as he looked at the ground, noticing three cigarette butts he assumed were Frank's.

The two remained silent and Frank was about to light up his fifth cigarette of the day when Gerard spoke again.

"Can I bum a smoke?" he asked, surprising Frank slightly but he nodded and handed him a cigarette anyway.

What Frank didn't understand was that instead of lighting up his cigarette, Gerard just placed it in the pocket of his jeans. Frank shot him a confused look.

Gerard noticed his confusion once again. "I don't smoke," he explained.

Frank just felt even more confused. "then why did you-- wait," he felt himself become slightly angered. "I swear to God if you're going to say that it's a fucking metaphor, I will--"

"It's not," Gerard chuckled, then cleared his throat to compose himself. "It's really not," he mused.

"Then why'd you take my cigarette?" Frank asked, 'cause let's face it, those shits weren't exactly cheap.

Gerard smirked, "I figured that if you had less cigarettes then you'd smoke less, wouldn't want you sick, now don't we?"

And that was the day Frank Iero met the enigma of a human being, named Gerard.

➹


	2. ➸Remember Me

 

➹   

 

Frank didn't see him again after that encounter.

Today was a Wednesday, he hadn't seen the red-haired boy yesterday... or the day before... or the day before that. He'd be lying if he wasn't _slightly_ disappointed about it, not that he was already _attached_ to the guy, it's just... nice to finally be able to talk to someone.

"I'm guessing you're here to apply for a job, yeah?" Frank snapped out of his trance and diverted his eyes to the man in front of him. The man he was _supposed_ to be talking to.

Frank nodded once and the man in front of him offered him a small smile. "Alright, I'm Pete, owner of this place. Any particular reason as to why you'd want to work at a coffee shop?"

Frank had decided that another job wouldn't hurt, he was practically alone anyway. Besides, he could barely pay off his rent, and working for 6 hours at a record store for twice a week didn't really have that much of a salary.

He'd start his shift at around two in the afternoon and it ended at eight in the evening and then he'd have nothing to do. So yeah, getting another job wouldn't be so bad. This isn't the same coffee shop he was at last Saturday-no, _God forbid_ that he ever return there. He probably won't last for a minute before he was on _cardiac arrest_ because of the space, or in this case, the lack of it.

He was currently in the office of Pete, supposedly the owner of **_'Wentz Hungry, Leavez Happy (Coffee and Pastriez)'_** and Frank can't help but notice the guy's obvious obsession with the letter _z._ Then his eyes caught sight of the name tag that was pinned on Pete's pen pocket and then he saw it, _Pete Wentz. Ah, so that's where he got it._

"Uh..." he began,

 _Oh you know, I just have this great fascination about serving coffee and donuts and you just have no idea, this is like, my lifelong dream and I don't always dream, but when I do, it's most definitely about coffee and pastries._ Yeah... that didn't quite sound right. The truth it is, then.

"Well I, uh... I can barely pay my rent and I have a lot of free time, I guess. I don't particularly hate coffee, so that's like, a bonus. And getting a job seemed the most sensible thing to do." Frank wanted to laugh, when was he ever sensible?

Pete nodded and handed Frank what he assumed was an application form and a pen. "Well then, just fill this form out and you're good to start training. You'll get to work here from Monday to Wednesday."

Frank licked his lips nervously before looking back up at Pete. "This isn't exactly my only job..."

"Ah, I see. What's your work schedule?" Pete asked

"Just during Tuesdays and Thursdays, half day, actually." Frank shrugged

Pete thought of it for a while before replying, "Not a problem, I'll just adjust your shift to Monday, Wednesday, and Friday."

Frank just remained silent as he filled out the form which didn't really ask for much. Just the basics, well, besides the bank information and all that payment-related jazz. Pete tapped his foot as he waited for him to finish filling everything out, picking up some beat Frank wasn't familiar with.

Frank always believed that he had this uneasy aura attached to him, therefore making any situation involving him awkward. He felt sorry for Pete, to say the least.

He slowly slid the application form back to Pete and handed the pen back as well. Pete took the form, his eyes skimmed the black ink scribbled down before placing the paper in a folder.

"Bob is extending his shift, so I guess you can start your training today. Once you're trained, you can start working here from nine in the morning to five in the afternoon, hopefully you'll be able to start by Monday. It's currently half past one, so you have less than four hours to start training, then you'll just have to wait for Joe to take the night shift." Pete elaborated, slightly confusing Frank because he didn't know who the _fuck_ were those people, but he nodded anyway.

"I'll have your name tag ready by Friday. But for the mean time, this'll do." Pete took out a thin pad of post-it notes, scribbled 'FRANK" messily, tore it, then handed it to Frank. Pete then ushered Frank outside his office.

Frank slightly felt anxious, because for one, he wasn't a sociable person. And the mere thought of having to talk to costumers made him nervous.  
He had to reassure himself though, because he was certain that in the application form he had applied as a barista that _specifically_ made coffee and served pastries only. No taking orders from customers or what not, if there was such a thing.

They left Pete's office and he retrieved a dark green apron from a rack and proceeded to wear it, sticking the post-it note on the apron. He noticed that the coffee shop was fairly busy but _thank God_ , not crowded.

"Brendon here'll be showing you around, how to operate the machines and the cashier." Pete said as they were faced by a rather happy-looking man. First word that entered Frank's head? _Forehead._

He let what Pete had said sink in... wait, _cashier?_

But before he could protest, Forehead--Brendon, rather, was already pulling him away and directing him towards the nearest machine.

"I'm Brendon! And you must be Frank," Brendon said as he eyed the post-it note on Frank's apron.

Frank gave him a nod before Brendon started his mini orientation on how to operate the coffee machine and showed him where to locate the other add-ons.

Bob was operating the cashier at the mean time, and while they weren't too busy, Brendon asked him to show Frank how to operate the cashier as well.

Frank was _not_ pleased that he had to learn operating the cashier, to say the least.

▶⏩▼⏪◀

When Frank had started his training, the coffee shop wasn't too busy and was still manageable by three staffs-he later on learned that a guy named Spencer was in charge of cleaning the tables. But by half past three, that's when everything went crazy.

" _Shit,_ " Bob muttered, seeing the line of orders yet to be made as Brendon was struggling to keep in track every single one of them and not mix the orders up.

Frank wanted to help, really, he did. If only he knew what the _fuck_ he was supposed to do.

Frank wanted to curse the menu and the rather complicated names of the coffee and pastries. All he knew was black coffee, 'cause that's always been the only kind of coffee he drank.

"Frank," Bob called, leaving him to drag himself over to the cashier.

"Shit, man, I'm sorry but I've got to put you in charge of the cashier for a while, I have to help Brendon with the orders." He sighed.

"But-" Frank never got to say no, because Bob immediately rushed to Brendon's side to help him.

He looked at the two people who were currently in line, waiting to be served. He groaned internally and positioned himself in front of the cashier.

This shouldn't be hard, he just had to push some buttons, take their money, and give them their change, easy peasy.

"A medium-sized cappuccino and two blue berry muffins." The girl spoke while constantly texting on her phone, not even sparing Frank a single glance.

Frank frantically pushed the buttons that matched her order and sighed in relief when he didn't completely fuck it up.

This went on for a while and Frank had just finished taking the order of his seventh customer when something caught his eye: _red._ Bright red hair that stood out so obviously. Red hair that could be instantly spotted in a crowd. Fucking red, flamboyant hair. He followed the man with his eyes, spotting him sit on a booth at one of the corners of the shop. _Gerard?_

"Hey," his eyes snapped back to see a man in front of him with a slight--almost non-existent--smile.

"Oh, uh-- sorry about that." Frank didn't even know why he was apologizing, out of instinct, maybe?

"It's no problem, even I'm not used to his hair, and I'm with him _every_ single day." The man mused. "Anyway, we'll be having the usual."

And for a moment there, Frank actually did look for a coffee named _'usual'_ 'cause he was naive like that.

"Uh... the usual?" He asked.

"Mikey, dude, you're late. Was beginning to think that you weren't coming here today for, like, _the first time ever_." Brendon chuckled, suddenly butting in.

"Sorry man, my brother was having this internal battle with himself if he actually wanted to come or not." Mikey rolled his eyes before chuckling himself.

"Yeah, no worries. This is Frank, by the way. He's new, so he doesn't know what the 'usual' means. So, just clear that out and I'll be back to work." Brendon said as he went to serve the frappe to a pending customer.

"Ah, sorry, didn't notice you were new. We'll be having two large coffees, just black." Mikey replied, now taking notice of the yellow post-it on Frank's apron.

Frank wanted to sigh in relief but refrained to, he still wasn't quite used to encoding orders.

"Anyway, I'm Mikey, and when I say 'the usual' it's just a large black coffee, or two, depends if my brother's with me. I'm quite a regular." Mikey chuckled lightly.

Frank's eyes looked back to the red haired boy who was busy fiddling with his fingers then back to the man in front of him. _This was Gerard's brother?_

"Noted," he managed to reply. Mikey gave an appreciative nod before moving aside to wait for his order.

Frank contemplated on whether he should approach Gerard, but then again, why should he?

He wasn't able to ponder on the thought for long as there were customers lining up once again. He sighed, Bob and Brendon were still busy so he had to stay behind the counter for a little longer.

What he didn't know was that there was a certain fiery red-haired boy who sat in his booth, looking at him.

Gerard began to frown as he studied the man in front of the cashier. Something about him was familiar, but he just couldn't quite point it out.

Then he stared at his eyes, even from the distance he could tell that they were hazel. Hazel orbs that looked so tired, but above all, lonely. The boy's eyes looked lonely. The _boy_ was lonely.

And then it struck him. Those eyes. Those eyes that had caught his attention in the park the other day. He remembered the boy looking so silent, yet his eyes were screaming with emotion. And Gerard could tell, because he had learned to read people off with their eyes. And it didn't take him long to realize that it was sadness that was enveloping the boy's beautiful eyes. Frank.

_Frank._

That was his name. Gerard remembers now, and he could feel himself smile slightly.

He averted his attention back to his brother who was doing some of his paperwork while drinking his coffee. Then, he looked at the paper mat placed in front of him, before taking out a pencil and just started sketching lines.

Frank would steal glances at the Way brothers whenever he could, but he'd always just see Mikey doing what he assumed was paperwork while Gerard was sketching. This went on for more than half an hour before they decided it was time to go.

He also watched as the two men got out of their booth to leave the coffee shop, then Spencer cleaning up their table.

Frank somewhat felt disappointed that he wasn't able to at least catch the attention of Gerard. Surely, he would've seen him, he was at the cashier for Pete's sake. But he didn't, and Frank just missed the opportunity to meet once again the red-haired boy.

"Hey, Frank," Frank turned to see Spencer approaching him, a paper mat in one hand.

He raised a brow while Spencer just grinned, handed him the paper mat and said, "found this on the Way's booth."

Frank stared at the paper mat, confused as to what caught the attention of Spencer, before flipping it over and saw a sketch on the side.

It was a sketch of a boy, eyes looking directly back at him as he realized, _he_ was the boy in the sketch.

Frank felt himself blush, "Uh... thanks, I guess." Spencer replied a 'no problem' as Frank continued to gaze at the sketch.

And at the bottom most part of the sketch was a note written with almost illegible handwriting, _The eyes can't hide what we truly feel_ _inside_.

➹


	3. ➸Blending in the Darkness

 

➹

 

 

The only source of light in Gerard's room that wasn't completely rid of was through a small glass window. The window was originally fair-sized, but the stacks of comics and other shelves of vinyls that blocked more than half of it made it appear small. And to top that, the light that the window refracted was from a lighted lamp post near their sidewalk.

Gerard had been drawing almost all day, just making rough sketches of the face that haunted his thoughts. Doing so seemed satisfying.

And obviously it's not ideal to draw in the dark, _'stop making your eyes feel so shitty.'_ Mikey would tell him. But of course that didn't stop him, because he found solace in being enveloped in the darkness; to be swallowed whole and not be seen. His inspiration flowed freely like water through a faucet as he continued to sketch, letting the black ink of his pen blend into the darkness. In the darkness, where his imagination was easy to put in paper. In the darkness, where he could feel everything and nothing at the same time, the intensity of it all fueling up his adrenaline. And in the darkness, where he'd close his eyes, just forgetting to exist for a moment and focusing more on what was around him.

But Gerard didn't let his thoughts wander off too far, that would be dangerous. And maybe that would make the thought of eternal darkness far too comforting-far too _tempting_ , to resist.

Gerard was _not_ depressed, of _course_ he wasn't. He just liked the silence, the comforting ambiance that only the darkness could provide. And, okay, _maybe_ he was lonely, _but_ _wasn't everyone?_

Gerard can draw for _hours_ , not bothering to eat or sleep, just endless sketching of lines, shapes, and familiar faces. Because when there's that spark of inspiration, and you just so happen to be holding a pen, it's almost impossible to stop.

Unfortunately for Gerard, his line of inspiration was cut shortly as he heard someone opening the door to his room. Gerard placed his pen flat on the table, but he didn't turn to face his brother who was currently by his door frame.

"Gerard, it's like, ass o'clock in the morning. Why are you still up?" Mikey yawned, trying to rub away the sleepiness in his eyes.

Gerard sighed, once again held his pen to pick up where he left on. He was sketching those hazel eyes by now, which he thought was the most crucial part. He was struggling to capture the exact emotions he had seen through _Frank's_ eyes. "I already slept, just woke up early," he lied.

Mikey just shook his head in dismay and sat on Gerard's unkempt bed, which was near his desk. "I know you're lying, Gee, you hardly sleep at all. And I'm worried," he confessed.

Gerard took a deep breath before finally facing his younger brother and offering him a small smile, "There's nothing to worry about, I'm just... not tired, is all."

Mikey shot him a skeptical look, "Two weeks, Gerard. You haven't been eating and sleeping regularly for almost two weeks and now you're telling me you're just not tired?"

Gerard stayed silent after that. He just stared blankly at his brother but deep inside, he so badly wanted to tell him something that's been recently bothering him. He didn't intend to not sleep regularly for the past weeks, it was the _insomnia_ he was developing. He'd stay up all night just thinking, _what am I doing with my life?_

Gerard also had this fear; the fear of being forgotten completely, to be _fully_ gone from this world-- every memory and thought of him, _erased_. It was inevitable though, because what had he done? Nothing. Nothing relevant enough for the generations to come to actually care about knowing _Gerard Way_ , Artist (barely) and Insomniac.

Gerard never thought that he'd be an insomniac, nor did he ever dream to be one. He had truly thought that he just had a lot in mind-- that if he just cleared his mind off his thoughts, he'd be able to get some rest. But then that didn't work, so he understood why Mikey was worried. A few days weren't bad, but not being able to sleep for weeks? Something was definitely wrong.

Gerard knew that there was no point in arguing with his brother, he didn't have any other excuse anyway, so he just stood up from his seat and ruffled Mikey's hair. "If it'll make you stop worrying, then fine, I'll get some sleep."

But Mikey wasn't convinced, Gerard could just be lying again. He decided to make sure of it himself, so he took a pillow or two from Gerard's bed and a spare blanket. He laid all of these on the floor, "I'll sleep here for the night, just to make sure."

Gerard rolled his eyes, "You're such a creep," he chuckled.

"I'm not a creep," Mikey replied while setting up his temporary bed.

"And I'm 26 years old, not 6." Gerard huffed, "I can take care of myself."

"Talk all you want, I'm not changing my mind." Mikey then launched himself unto his bed for extra effect.

And then Gerard did stop talking, lying defeated on his bed. He positioned himself sideways and tried to calm his breathing as much as possible. He'd just have to fake his sleeping, at least long enough for Mikey to fall for it. Gerard was good at that; pretending. He was good at acting so nonchalant about everything when, truly, he's feeling thousands of emotions all at once. But he had to suck it all in, put on that facade, because Gerard could truly be so deceiving. And surely enough, about 10 minutes later, he could already hear the soft snores of his younger brother. Gerard slowly shifted himself until he was lying on his back, eyes facing the ceiling. Mikey was quite a heavy sleeper but Gerard didn't want to take his chances, so he made sure that he moved slowly. He sighed -- he's been doing that a lot recently, and shut his eyes as his mind was, once again, bombarded with thoughts.

The lamp post that was emitting light from his window started to flicker; going out and on again until it finally died down. And as Gerard looked at the ceiling, a ton of things going through his mind, he once again found himself being swallowed by the darkness. In the darkness, where his fears seemed too real.

Gerard didn't know when it had happened, but somewhere within five in the morning, he closed his eyes and finally, fell asleep.

It's kind of sad that you aren't fully aware as to when you start to drift off to sleep, that must've been great to feel; your body and mind finally shutting itself off from the world, even only for just a few hours. And for Gerard, it truly was just _a few hours._

What he didn't expect though was waking up feeling like his head was going to _explode._

He felt as though his head was throbbing, no-- it was fucking _pounding_. He grasped at his hair with his charcoal-stained fingers, wanting so badly to rip off his hair. He bit on his lip, trying to suppress a sob that was threatening to escape his lips. Mikey was asleep, though there was a faint ray of sunlight that entered the room through Gerard's nearly concealed window. The light irritated Gerard's eyes to no end, he also saw blind spots all over his line of vision.

Gerard closed his eyes, willing himself back to sleep, but the pain was too much. He forced himself to stand, supporting himself using the wall as he stumbled to get some aspirin. He downed it with a glass of water and sat on the couch of their living room as he massaged his temples whilst he closed his eyes. He let out a deep breath as he felt the aspirin start to kick in, or maybe that was just the placebo effect. Either way, Gerard could care less. And never had he been so thankful that unconsciousness decided to take him away.

>>>>>>>

Frank was put in charge of the cashier, _again_.

Bob called in sick that day so it was impossible for Brendon to go on with training Frank. Needless to say, Frank was _not_ amused.

He was starting to doubt if getting another job was such a good idea. Well, it wasn't all that bad, at least Pete was with him at the counter. And surprisingly, Pete didn't forget to give him his name tag either.

It was a slow day for the coffee shop today, but Frank couldn't be so sure. After all, it was only ten in the morning. There were only two booths that were occupied as of now and Frank felt bored as _hell._ The only reason he continues to tolerate this job was because of the free coffee during breaks.

But as Frank was about to close his eyes, fucking _collapse_ , and _fall asleep_ right then and there, his eyes caught the flamboyant shade of red hair. And Frank just stared in awe as Gerard and Mikey entered the shop, Mikey noticing Pete and making his way to him.

"Mikey, dude, you're early today. _How are the kids?_ " Pete greeted over the counter with a cheeky smile.

"Oh fuck off, _Peter_ , I don't have kids." Mikey retorted with a smirk playing on his lips.

And Gerard just kind of stood there, not sure if he should order their coffee or just find a booth. Pete noticed his distress.

"Hey Gee Way," Pete addressed.

"Oh, hey uh..." Gerard paused, eyeing Pete. "...Pete."

Pete just smiled at him while Gerard, in the inside, was _panicking_. How could have he _almost_ forgotten Pete's name?

"Why don't you order our coffee, Gerard? I'll be picking us a booth." Mikey said, snapping Gerard out of his thoughts

Gerard proceeded to the counter, unaware that he was standing right in front of _Frank._ It took him a moment, but as he stared at his face, he recognized him.

Meanwhile, Frank wasn't sure if he should address Gerard as though they knew each other, last time he saw Gerard, the red-haired boy didn't even acknowledge his existence.

"My brother and I'll be having the usual, Frank." Gerard smiled to himself when he saw Frank's hazel eyes widen. "I'm assuming that you already know what that means." He smirked.

"What do you mean?" Frank raised a brow at him.

"I mean, I could just imagine you looking for something named _usual_ on the menu." Gerard chuckled while Frank blushed because that was _exactly_ what had happened.

"Whatever, I know what it means." Frank rolled his eyes as he punched in their order.

"Sure you do," Gerard smiled, and this time, it was genuine. Frank found himself staring, in his defense, Gerard was staring, too.

Gerard studied Frank's eyes and his smile grew wider when he noticed that they weren't as sad, if anything, he could see a speck of happiness. "I'm glad you're not lonely anymore." Gerard's eyes widened when he realized what he had said. Damn his mind to mouth filter.

Frank was surprised, too, but Gerard was right, he did feel slightly happier. Maybe that was the effect of talking to someone you're familiar with. "Uh... thanks, I guess?"

Gerard blushed but before he could reply, Brendon was already calling out his order.

"I'll uh... head to the booth, I guess. It was nice talking to you again, Frank" Gerard scratched his nape, willing himself to stop blushing, but failing miserably.

Frank smiled to himself as Gerard's cheeks were almost the exact same color of his hair, "yeah, it was nice, we should talk more often." and okay, now it was his turn to blush. Gerard smiled then nodded.

"Black coffee for Gerard! Black coffee for Gerard! Black Gerard for coff--oh shit, sorry!" Brendon stopped mid sentence.

"That was the most racist thing I've ever heard, Bren." Pete shook his head.

"Well maybe if I wasn't given the night shift yesterday then maybe I'd have gotten some decent sleep." Brendon mumbled.

"I heard that," Pete said, though there was a small smile on his lips.

"Sorry, Peter- I mean mister Wentz, I'll go apologize--sorry, Gerard-- there you go mister Wentz, I have _wentz_ to Gerard and apologized." Brendon deadpanned. "But no, really, sorry about that, Gerard."

"It's fine, I don't mind." Gerard smiled and took his and Mikey's coffee before finally sitting down in the booth.

"What took you so long?" Mikey asked once Gerard had seated himself.

"Just Brendon trying to get himself fired." Gerard laughed, Mikey did, too.

"Well, I'm proud of you," Mikey smiled while Gerard raised a brow as if to ask 'why?'

"I saw you talking to Frank earlier and I don't know-- I'm just glad that you're starting to socialize." Mikey shrugged.

"Hey, I'm not _that_ antisocial." Gerard frowned.

"Sure you're not." Mikey smirked.

"Whatever." Gerard playfully rolled his eyes before he began to, once again, sketch on the paper mat.

He found himself smiling as he watched Frank from the booth, laughing at Bendon's antics.

And this time, he drew Frank with that happy glint in his eyes, and a wide smile that made his eyes crinkle. And below it, he wrote: _when_ _you smile, my heart smiles. please smile more._

 

➹  


	4. ➸Forced Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for mentions of death and depression

 

➹

 

 

_He was vaguely aware of his surroundings, bright blue and golden. He looked at what he was standing on:  newly cut grass that was just drizzled over with morning dew, or maybe it was the aftermath of rain? The scent of petrichor flooded his senses, it had just rained. The place gave off a peaceful ambiance, it was fairly quiet besides the sound of birds singing their morning tune. He was nerved by an overwhelming sense of familiarity from this place. He desperately searched through his memories and dug deep - deep enough for him to remember what made this place so familiar. Unfortunately, no memories of this place seemed to resurface in Frank's mind._

_He continued to walk around at what he thought was a garden of some sort, though there was a white building just right beside it on one side, and tall white fences surrounded the garden on the rest. The place seemed to be void of people for some reason, but Frank wasn't able to contemplate on the thought much when he heard the creek of a door._

_He felt as though his feet were glued to the land he was standing on as he watched in shock as a little boy giddily made his way across the garden, a basket held in his hand. It wasn't just any boy though, standing just a few meters away from Frank was the little_ **_Frank Iero_ ** _. Frank suddenly felt numb as he watched his younger self, as if he stopped existing and instead became the little boy. He snapped out of it when he found himself unconsciously walking towards the boy. He was right in front of his younger self when it had occurred to him that the young boy couldn't see him._

_Little Frank, age 8 at that time, had just been given permission to pick some flowers for his mother. The young Frank didn't have much to do so he volunteered to tend for the garden, regularly watering the plants - well, more like getting himself wet because of the hose - and even planting flowers of his own. He squealed in delight once he had approached the bush of roses, some of the roses were already fully grown and had begun to bloom. One rose in particular caught the young one's eyes, one rose that was redder than the others it was surrounded with, it practically outshone them all. The eight-year-old opened his basket to take out a pair of garden clippers that he held carefully. He positioned the clippers between the stem of the rose - and snap! He gently took it in his hand, careful to not be pricked by the thorns. To his excitement, he shoved back the clippers into the basket and hooked the handle to his arm before running back to his mother's room, red rose at hand. The older Frank, not knowing what to do, just followed behind the young boy's steps._

_He dashed off through the corridors in search of his mother's room. Jamia, one of the nurses, noticed him running through the halls and giggled to herself before calling him out. "Woah there, Frankster, slow down."_

_This seemed to make Frank slowly stop running before turning back to Jamia, "sorry, Jamia." He smiled sheepishly, Jamia just smiled and dismissed him._

_Young Frank continued to walk to his mother's room, getting excited all over again as he twisted the knob and finally opened the door. His smile instantly fell as he took in the scene before him - his mother was crying. He unconsciously dropped his basket, but his gripped tightened on the rose, not caring if he was indeed pricked by the thorns this time._

_Linda Iero, a truly beautiful woman who was slowly being destroyed by her lung cancer, was crying silently as her husband hugged her, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead while whispering words of comfort as he, too, was preventing himself from crying. There was a doctor in front of them who was still talking, yet the young Frank couldn't decipher what the doctor was saying. His mother was a strong woman, she never cried nor complained because of her sickness - she fought it with her head held high. And yet now, she was crying, they could only expect the worst._

_The doctor then excused herself from the couple, offering young Frank a sad, sympathetic smile on her way out of the room. He then approached his parents, the rose hidden behind his back. "Ma, why are you crying?" He whispered worriedly. Linda quickly wiped away her tears, taking in a deep breath and immediately put on a soft smile on her face as she looked back at her son._

_"It's nothing, sweetheart," His mother said gently, "Mommy's just exhausted, is all." Young Frank frowned, not convinced of his mother's explanation, but didn't say anything about it. Linda caught a glance of something strikingly red behind her son's back, "What's that behind your back, Frankie?" she asked._

_The young boy withdrew his hands from his back and revealed a red rose before handing it to his mother, "I got this from the garden... it's for you."_

_Linda felt her heart swell with love as she took the rose from her son's hands, gently placing it on her lap. "Oh, Frankie, it's beautiful, thank you." She then kissed her son's nose._

_He was delighted to see his mother smile again, and her smile grew as her husband and son joined her in a family hug. Little Frank then turned to his father, "Would you want one too, Pa?" he asked innocently._

_His father chuckled and ruffled his son's hair, "No need, kiddo, I'd rather your mother have them." He smiled before finally walking to the door, "You two just make yourselves comfortable, I'll be buying us some lunch." And then he left._

_All of this, Frank watched happen before him. He felt his heart ache as he felt a wave of emotions hit him, but one emotion seemed to overcome all other, sadness. He felt himself nearly in tears, he felt like sobbing in a corner, because now, now he knew why his mother had been crying._

_And then, everything around him soon became nothing - and suddenly he was falling. He was falling into an endless black abyss yet he could feel the harsh wind ripping through his clothes. He closed his eyes shut, he felt tears spilling from his eyes yet he couldn't help it. He was still falling, everything so black and dark that he wasn't sure if there was an end to this pit of doom. He finally managed to wrap his arms around himself when suddenly his fall was cut short - and he felt pain fill his senses. Every bone, breaking, every vein, bursting, yet what he felt the most was the burning in his chest - the ache of his heart. The intensity of the pain was almost unbearable, but as soon as he felt it, it was gone._

Frank jolted awake in his bed, eyes wide and skin slicked with sweat. He brought his hands to his cheeks and felt tears rolling down them. And then suddenly, his emotions became too overwhelming that he was once again reduced into a sobbing mess, unable to stop himself from replaying his dream and eventually continuing the story himself.

His younger self wasn't able to find out why his mother was crying, but later on everything was crystal clear. His mother was living the last days of her life that time, her cancer was finally taking it's toll on her life. Her lungs weren't recovering anymore and instead they were turning worse. She was dying, and there was nothing Frank nor his father could do. 

He didn't mean to, but he accidentally replayed in his head the day that his mother died. He remembered it clearly as though it hadn't happened 16 years ago and instead it caused him hurt only yesterday.

It happened barely two months after his younger self had seen his mother crying. His father was out to buy them dinner and told Frank to tend to his mother's needs while he was gone. A simple task, it seemed, but you can never be so sure on what could happen in such a short time.

Twenty minutes later, Frank and his mother were just watching television since his father was surely soon to arrive. He was caressing his mother's fingers when suddenly she took a firm grip of his hand making him look at her in shock. Her breathing became rushed and desperate, as if she can't take in enough air. Not knowing what to do, Frank stood from his seat and took hold of his mother's hand with two of his own.

"M-Ma, what's going on?" Frank's tone was high pitched due to panic while his mother was still gasping for air.

He was just about ready to sprint across the halls and call for help when his mother's grip tightened and she opened her mouth to speak.

"T-take... care of your... yourself. Okay?" His mother had tears rolling down her cheeks as she struggled to say her final words to her shell-shocked son.

"I love... you, my F..Frankie." she gasped, "Tell th.. that to... your fa-father... as well..."

"No, Ma, I'm gonna get help, hold on." Frank's eyesight was blurred due to the tears that were now falling uncontrollably from his eyes. It hurt a lot, but he let go of his mother's hand and opened the door before screaming: "Help! My mother can't breathe! Please, help!"

He held unto the door frame to support himself when his knees suddenly became wobbly. The nurses rushed into the room with the doctor. "We need to take her to the ER." The doctor said with urgency as they lifted her body and placed it onto a bed with wheels and wheeled her out of the room. Frank just ran with them, tears still falling, heart still aching, he ran until he was stopped by the nurses. He wasn't allowed in the Emergency Room.

Not long after that, Frank saw his father running towards him. "What happened?! What happened to your mother?" he asked as soon as he reached his son.

"Sh-she couldn't... breathe, the doctor said that she'd h-have to... she'll.. Ma w-will... s..surgery." Frank gasped out, he still hasn't stopped crying.

His father took him in a tight embrace, "She... She'll make it, your mother is strong." But he sounded as if he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

It felt like forever, when it reality it was about three hours. After those three, agonizing hours, the doctor came out of the emergency room.

Frank's father immediately stood up and asked the doctor about the surgery. The doctor just shook her head sadly "I'm sorry, Mr. Iero..."

As soon as Frank heard those words, he suddenly became deaf, he didn't hear his father wailing in agony and in grief, finally collapsing to his knees.

Frank felt nothing, and then something, and as though he was hit by a truck, he felt everything. He, too, fell to his knees and embraced his father, both of them sobbing for the loss of a wife, the loss of a mother.

Frank thought that there was nothing worse that could compare to losing his mother. But as if fate was playing a fucking game on him, things only took a turn for the worst.

Two weeks after that, Frank got out of bed and went into the living room. He was surprised that his father was there, sleeping while seated on the couch with a hand supporting his cheek. He approached him and shook him to wake him up but... his father didn't budge. He tried harder this time and then his father's hand finally fell from supporting his cheek and his head lay limp on to the side.

Frank began to panic when he saw that his father wasn't breathing. He placed his ear near his father's chest... nothing. Not a beat.

Frank screamed. He screamed, he cried, and he hugged his father as he wept and wept. He didn't let go of his father even when the neighbors were already in with the 911 emergency team. They were forced to let him ride with them in the ambulance.

 _Heart attack._ His father died because of a severe heart attack. Frank wanted to take back what he said; losing your mother wasn't the worst thing to experience, _losing both of your parents was._

The eight-year-old was no longer innocent to the cruelty of life, no longer with his parents. He was now an orphan, an orphan who was eventually passed on and on to every remaining family member like a basketball. Nobody wanted to permanently take him in, why would they? He wasn't their son, he wasn't their problem. The longest that Frank had stayed with a family member was two years, and it was with his paternal grandparents. He eventually had to move in with his aunt since his grandparents were too old to take care of an orphan like him.

He was continually passed on to different relatives till he was eighteen. By that time, Frank was on his own. But ever since his parents died, Frank had truly been alone.

He snapped out of his trance, not able to take any more of the memories. Memories that he worked so hard on burying in the back of his mind, that was why he couldn't easily recall the garden he had tended for over a year as a child.

He was full out sobbing by now, he wrapped his blanket tighter around himself along with his hands in a pathetic attempt to imitate a hug.

He hugged his knees and buried his head. "I'm so sorry, mom. I'm sorry, dad. I... I wish I could've done more. Then maybe I wouldn't be alone right now. Maybe... maybe you'd still be here." 

⏩▼⏪

He wrapped his arms around himself tighter as he made his way to the park that was just a walking distance from his apartment. He tried to forget everything that he had dreamed about, forget about the memories that had, once again, began to resurface and bombard his thoughts. He tried so hard to bury them deep in the back of his mind, like he once did. But doing so proved to be hard, and he found himself seated on a bench, smoking his worries away.

He was pretty sure that he was already chain smoking by that time as he had smoked half of his pack of cancer sticks. He had a feeling of guilt as he stubbed out his seventh cigarette, his mother died because she didn't have healthy lungs, he had perfectly fine ones, and yet he was making a way to slowly destroy them. He found it ironic, really. Sometimes he wished his mother had his lungs instead, 'cause he was doing a pretty shit job at taking care of them.  

He hesitated before lighting up another one, was he really intending to destroy his lungs?

 _"Fuck it,"_   he mumbled as he continued to light up his eighth smoke.

"I'm guessing it didn't work." Frank's neck snapped up quickly, like he was caught doing something illegal. He sighed in relief once he saw that it was Gerard.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, genuinely curious before he realized how stupid the question was.

"I'm here almost everyday," Gerard shrugged.

Frank wanted then to ask him why he hadn't seen him after Saturday if he was almost always here. He decided not to ask him instead, he didn't want to pass off as a creep.

Gerard's question came back to mind.

"What do you mean it didn't work?" He raised a brow at him as the red-haired boy proceeded to take a seat next to him on the bench.

"I meant you and your smoking habits, I thought I'd be able to help you, y'know... lay low on them a bit?" Gerard blushed when Frank diverted his eyes to him.

Frank remembered that day, Gerard - the non-smoker - bummed a cigarette from him to help him prevent from doing anymore of those vices.

Gerard sighed, "I guess bumming a smoke worsens your habit." He looked at the cigarette butts lying everywhere around Frank in distaste, _"eight cigarettes?"_   Gerard mumbled to himself.

That struck a cord in him somehow, he remembered what Gerard had told him about a week ago,

 _"So, may I know why a fine young man like you is trying to kill himself?"_  

Kill himself? Was it really that serious?

He felt tears sting his eyes as he fought them from falling. The guilt he felt earlier increased tenfold as he thought about it. He felt guilty because his mother was denied a long life that she probably deserved better than him. And yet here he was, wasting his life away. What would have his parents told him? Tough for Frank though, because they didn't live long enough to scold him if ever, so he'd never know.

He remained silent. One, because he didn't know what to say, and two, he didn't trust his voice at the moment. He felt like a bomb was shoved down his throat - that if he so much as spoke a word, the bomb would fucking _explode._ He winced when he felt a tear fall upon his lap, he'd been crying for the second time in less than an hour.

Gerard glanced back at Frank when he didn't receive a response. He gaped once he saw that the younger man was crying. Frank's hands were trembling violently that he let go of his cigarette.

" _Shit_ \- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, shit, I fucked up." Gerard began to panic.

"I'm sorr-"

"N-no..." Frank cut him off as he brutally rubbed at his eyes, as if that would remove the evidence that he had indeed been crying.

"Was it something that I said? Oh shit, I didn't mean-"

"No, it wasn't." Frank sighed.

Gerard looked confused, "then why were you..?"

Frank once again took in a deep breath, "It's a long story, I... I'd rather not talk about it, really."

Gerard nodded, licking his lip nervously "Ah, of course, I didn't mean to pry,  I'm just... worried that what I said upset you." He admitted.

Frank smiled at him sadly, "I wouldn't really say 'upset', more like, forced realization. But it's fine."

Gerard was skeptical, he tried to look at Frank's eyes to find the truth in them yet he couldn't, the younger man kept avoiding his eyes. There were still stray tears at the edge of Frank's eyes, just waiting to fall.

Gerard wasn't fully aware when he spreaded his arms wide and gently enveloped Frank in them, it was like an act of instinct. Frank suppressed a yelp that almost flew out of his mouth in shock of the sudden action.

Frank attempted to pull away at first since he felt awkward, but Gerard only held him tighter.

"I know what I said affected you in some way, and I'm sorry, I should've been more careful." Gerard whispered sincerely.

Frank slowly - and awkwardly - wrapped his arms around Gerard. "It's f-fine," he mumbled in a shaky breath. And Frank would never admit it, but this is exactly what he needed now. He could easily pretend that someone did actually care.

One thought seemed to smack him back to reality, though.

_He was hugging a stranger._

Frank treated human interaction like it was some sort of _disease_ and yet here he was, hugging a fucking _stranger._

But this was Gerard, he wasn't a complete stranger. An acquaintance, possibly. A friend? Hopefully.

Frank relaxed into the hug but he was still struggling to regain his breathing. He tried to focus on the scent of Gerard's shirt instead.

Gerard felt Frank inhale deeply, "You smell like vanilla," Frank observed, sniffing at Gerard's shirt, like that wasn't creepy at all.  
Gerard blushed, "And you smell like coffee and cigarettes." He chuckled as he felt Frank stiffen. "I like it though, it's oddly comforting."

They pulled away after that, both men blushing furiously as they avoided eye contact.

Frank cleared his throat, "uh, thank you, I feel a bit better." He smiled genuinely.

"No problem, you looked like you needed a hug," Gerard shrugged, trying to act nonchalant about it.

"Yeah, I did." Frank agreed, and his smile grew wider.

Gerard smiled at him too, but it soon turned into a playful one. "So I'm guessing bumming a smoke won't be enough."

Frank raised both of his eyebrows at the sudden mention of the subject, "And..?"

Gerard smiled cheekily, "So, can I bum a pack of cigarettes instead?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Frank chuckled. "Just can't give up, can you?"

"Apparently I can't," Gerard wiggled his eyebrows making Frank laugh even more.

He sighed and retrieved his half empty pack of cigarettes and handed them to Gerard, "Go wild, you _gold digger_."

Gerard dramatically gasped, "I am offended. I am trying to help you, you ungrateful bean."

"Whatever," Frank chuckled again. "What are you gonna do with the pack, anyway?"

"I'll be like your cigarette disciplinarian," Gerard said as he placed it on the pocket of his tight jeans.  "I'll give you a cigarette when I think you deserve it."

" _Oh joy,_ " Frank deadpanned.

 

➹

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect next update soon (five days tops)


	5. ➸The Fear of Falling Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this was a tad bit late, my hand bled last night (my fault) and plus the fact that I am indeed hematophobic (fear of blood) oh joy, and I just couldn't type up the chapter - but here it is.

**_ _ **

**_**Trigger warning for minimal mentions of blood**_ **

**➹**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Frank woke up early that day.

The sun was just about to rise as he sat at a bench on the park he had been at only yesterday. He had another one of those... nightmares, as you call them. And it was so vividly horrifying that he woke up screaming this time, hot tears staining his cheeks. And as if that wasn't bad enough, he experienced another panic attack.

Frank knew that he was having a panic attack, yet he had honestly felt that he was dying, that this was it - he was finally going to die in his mess of an apartment, he was going to die... alone. His mind was clouded in panic that he couldn't even think straight, plus the fact that breathing seemed to be the hardest task at the moment.

He clutched the thin material of clothing he had on before placing his palms flat on his chest. His heart was beating so fast that he feared it might blow up any minute. He stared at the walls of his apartment, trying desperately to focus on one thing only to stop his vision from spinning violently as he tried to regain his breathing.

In... out.... in and out...

His line of vision slowly stopped moving and spinning, he was finally able to look steadily at the walls without feeling like throwing up. He didn't know when it happened, but after more than half an hour, he was finally able to regain his breathing. Only this time, he didn't try going back to sleep, too scared that he'd have another nightmare. Instead, he put on his coat and made his way to the park that he had been going to much more frequently than he'd like to admit.

He sat slouched on the bench as he looked up to the sky that looked like an unfinished canvas. Orange, red, purple, pink. These colors seemed to blend into each other perfectly as they slowly escalated upwards to cover the entire blue-grey sky.

Frank watched as the sun slowly moved up to the horizon. He could feel the strain in his eyes as he looked at the ever bright sun. It began to hurt his eyes but he was too deep in thought to avert his eyes somewhere else. He subconsciously rocked himself back and fort ever so slightly as he wrapped his coat tighter around himself.

In the nightmare, he saw his father talking to his mother's doctor, yet their conversation remained undecipherable and a blur to Frank. He was only able to catch the words medication, chemotherapy, stop, and choice. Each of which aren't exactly pleasant to hear, let alone when you put them all together.

That wasn't what scarred him, though. Just when he thought that the supposed dream was going to progress into another memory of his childhood, everything around him once again turned into a black abyss that led to nothing - just like when he had fallen in his other nightmare, only this time, he stood perfectly still.

There was no wind ripping at his clothes, and nothing to be seen that could help him determine where he was. The silence was ironically deafening and for a moment, Frank actually thought that he had died in his sleep - but he didn't, though what he saw next made him wish he did.

He first saw white cloth that swayed as though it was following the push of the wind, only, there was no wind. The color of the cloth was so pure and bright that Frank was convinced that it was actually glowing. Next he saw a silhouette of a woman, though before he could make out who she was, the white cloth she was supposedly wearing emitted an unimaginable bright light that forced Frank to cover his eyes with his arms as he looked away.

When the bright light partially dimmed, Frank gently dropped his arms to his sides as he squinted his eyes to get a better look at the figure before him.

With wide eyes, Frank stumbled backwards once the figure's face came to view. And standing before him was his deceased mother, her hair flowing freely along with the non-existent wind around them. Slowly, drops of blood began to appear on the surface of his mother's white dress. The thick, crimson liquid spread across the white article of clothing like wildfire, and Frank just stood there, witnessing it happen right before him. He forced his sight to look anywhere but there and he found himself staring at his mother's face, a pained expression masking her lifeless eyes.

The skin surrounding her eyes had sunken, making her look even more lifeless. Her cheek bones were evident to the point that you couldn't determine where bone met skin, her eyes looked like they were going to bulge out at any moment.

She took a step forward, Frank took two steps back.

"No... go away," He whimpered.

As soon as he said that, the wind around them began to pick up and once again, it tugged harshly at his clothes.

"You can't hide forever," Frank's head snapped up and he looked around, the voice didn't belong to his mother.

"Stop..." He was close to tears as he sat in a fetal position, shutting his eyes.

"Stop pretending to yourself." Frank recognized the voice as his father's, he risked a glance to where his mother was and sure enough, his father was standing beside her. There was a black whole on his chest just where his heart should be. He looked just as lifeless as his mother was.

"Pretending - what? What do you mean?" He whispered yet it echoed everywhere throughout.

"Stop pretending," This time, his mother spoke. His parents took a step towards him yet Frank couldn't find it himself to move. "Stop pretending that it didn't happen."

"I don't... I'm not..."

He felt his parents crouch down in front of him but he only buried his face in his knees and whimpered to himself.

"Frankie..." He heard his mother whisper, and that made him snap.

"What! What do you mean? I am not pretending! I don't - I don't even know what you're talking about, so please - _please_ leave me alone!" He yelled and finally looked at his parents in the eyes - though he wished he hadn't.

His parents' eyes that used to be beautiful hazels were nothing more but a black void now, their irises stretched throughout the entire eye, covering even the sclera. He was staring at their eyes yet it felt like staring at nothing, and never had Frank felt fear like this before.

He remained frozen still as his mother raised one of her bony hands, though he flinched when his skin came in contact with her cold, slender fingers.

His entire body was trembling as he dared himself to look at his mother straight in the eyes. She continued to caress his cheeks with her cold fingers as she whispered, "Stop pretending that you're not hurting."

And then he woke up screaming.

Frank sighed, bringing himself back to reality. He glanced once more at the view before him, noticing that the sun had fully risen to it's place. He closed his eyes gently this time as he tried to remove the sight of his parents' eyes that seemed to have been permanently engraved to his mind.

He could see his cloud of breath as he exhaled, and sight alone made him shiver even more. He palmed his pockets and withdrew a single cigarette. He was able to sneak one out before he gave the entire pack to Gerard.

He lit it up and inhaled it a bit too eager, causing him to cough profusely. Thankfully there weren't any people who were at the park at times like this, so the chances of people seeing him having an embarrassing coughing fit were little. He felt the cool wind biting at his skin as he regained composure, he held a tight grip on his cigarette with two fingers as he tried to take a drag carefully this time. He let the smoke linger a bit before he blew out the smoke little by little, watching as it dispersed into the chilly air.

He leaned back to the rest of the bench and took another drag of his cancer stick, grimacing a bit after he let out the smoke in one blow. He gripped tight at his thighs as he tried to clear his mind, but he couldn't. Every time he so much as closes his eyes, the lifeless looks of his parents is all he sees.

"It's messed up, y'know?" He said to no one in particular.

He took another drag and blew it out.

"I just... I don't get it. Why did you - why now?"

Inhale, let the smoke linger, exhale.

"Why now when I'm starting to piece my life back together?"

In. Stay. Out.

He dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out with his foot. He cupped his face with both of his hands and leaned his elbows on his knees. "Why do I feel like that I just can't... I just... I can't be happy?" He asked desperately, unfortunately, there was no one who could answer him. He looked around him and thankfully no one was there to hear him and see him slowly lose it.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I feel." He chuckled bitterly.

He gazed at the sky once again and glared at the sun, as though it had been the source of all his problems. A look of anger and determination crossed his face as he blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall down.

"I'm not hurting, and you're not helping."

\---------

Mikey Way was leaning against the side of his black Chevy, smoking whilst waiting for Gerard to hurry the fuck up so that they could get going. And much to his surprise, it only took five more minutes before Gerard was making his way towards him. He stubbed out his cigarette before holding out his hand at his brother.

"Gee, the keys."

Gerard just stared at Mikey's outstretched hand with a confused expression before looking back at him with a panicking look.

"Wait, wasn't it with you?" He asked.

Mikey frowned, "No, I tossed them to you earlier."

" _Shit,_ " Gerard mumbled. He started panicking as he palmed at his pockets but let out a sigh of relief when he felt them on the right pocket of his jeans. He withdrew the keys and tossed them back to Mikey.

Just as Mikey was about to unlock the car, his eyes caught the sight of a cigarette pack on the pocket in which Gerard just withdrew the car keys from. He looked back at his older brother with shock.

"I didn't know you smoked."

The red-haired boy just looked at him in confusion till Mikey gestured at his pocket.

Gerard palmed at his pocket once again before he took the cigarette pack out and his younger brother's eyes widened a bit more.

"I thought you were like, against smoking or something?"

"I am," Gerard said. "And I don't smoke."

Mikey just stared at him, even more bemused. "Then why do you have a pack of cigarettes with you?" He looked suspiciously at his older brother.

"They're not mine," The redhead shrugged.

Mikey sighed, "Gerard, look, if you've picked up the habit, it's fine, I won't judge. And besides, that would be hypocritical of me."

"But they really aren't mine," Gerard insisted.

"Then who owns them, and how did they somehow magically ended up with you?" The younger Way really couldn't understand where his brother was getting at.

"They're Frank's. He gave them to me."

"Frank? As in Frank from Pete's cafe?" Mikey asked.

"Yes, that Frank. Frank Iero," Gerard shrugged.

"Iero - what? How'd you know?"

"We met at a park not too far from here before we saw him at the cafe."

"Oh," was all Mikey could say before a smirk played across his face. "Why'd Frank give them to you? Is he your boyfr-"

"Nope." Gerard cut him off, trying to sound calm. "We've both agreed that I'd be his..." Gerard paused, he thought of how to reiterate it without sounding stupid, "... cigarette disciplinarian."

"Cigarette disciplinarian?" Mikey asked, trying to suppress a chuckle.

"Yeah, his cigarette disciplinarian."

"You say it like it's something serious." Mikey finally chuckled to himself.

"You say it like it's something stupid." Gerard retorted, causing Mikey to stop laughing.

"I wouldn't say it's stupid, just... is it really all that necessary?" the younger boy asked.

Gerard nodded, "Man, if you've seen how much he smokes in a span of half an hour, you'd be surprised that he's even alive at all." Mikey just raised a brow at him.

"Based on what you said, I'm surprised he even gave you his pack." Mikey shrugged.

 _Oh yeah_ , Gerard thought, _I guess he deserves a cigarette for that_.

"Though, of course, he could just buy another pack."

And Mikey just had to ruin the moment.

"Well, I've told him not to, so hopefully he doesn't. And okay, I may have been over exaggerating there a little but, _chain smoking_ , Mikey, do you know how much I'm _terrified_ of that shit?" Gerard asked.

"Yes, I know, Gee," Mikey smiled. "But the real question is, why do you care so much about his well-being? Or rather, why do you care so much about _him_?" He asked with an amused smile.

"Because I... I - " Gerard couldn't think of an answer. Was it instinct? Because he didn't like associating Frank with chain smoking? He wasn't sure how to answer.

Fortunately for Gerard, though, he didn't need to answer because Mikey was already starting the car.

"Come on, _lover boy_. Wouldn't want to keep Frank waiting." Mikey yelled at him before laughing to himself.

Gerard rolled his eyes, but he wasn't able to suppress the smile that crossed his face.

**➹**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next update coming asap! tell me what you think so far :)


	6. ➸ Won't Somebody Come Take Me Home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.2K words for you because you're special

 

_**➹** _

  
The Way brothers entered the cafe at around half past 10 in the morning. Gerard insisted that they wear multiple layers of clothing seeing that it was getting pretty chilly. And as they walked around the cafe to look for Kristin, the heater not really working wonders as it was still cold inside, Mikey couldn't be more thankful that Gerard had insisted.

Mikey was the one to spot Kristin, she sat in a booth that was in the innermost part of the cafe. She herself was wrapped in a big coat, warming up her hands by wrapping then around her cup of coffee. But before they approached the booth, Gerard took a glance at the counter and frowned.

He wasn't there.

Gerard was confused for a while, but then it grew into concern. Because he'd never admit it, but he did memorize Frank's work schedule at the café. He took out his phone as they walked towards Kristin's booth. It was Monday, he checked. Frank had work during Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Though Gerard didn't know where he was during Tuesdays and Thursdays.

"Hey," Kristin smiled as the two brothers approached her. Mikey gretted her with a chaste kiss as he sat beside her while Gerard just smiled back as he stood in front of them.

"Gerard, haven't seen you in a while. How's it going?" Kristin asked.

"I'm okay, I guess. Mikey wouldn't shut up about you though," Gerard said, which wasn't exactly a lie.

Mikey blushed and cleared his throat, "Yeah, yeah. Well I'm freezing to death over here so I'll go get Gerard and I some coffee."

"Nah, I'll order," Gerard said. A cold brush of wind passed by them, making him shiver, "Winter fucking sucks."

"You say that to almost any season," Mikey rolled his eyes at him.

Gerard thought for a while, "I so do not."

"Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night." Mikey laughed.

Gerard was silent for a while, just thinking of how ironic that was, and then said, "I'll go get us some coffee."

As he walked to the counter, he saw Brendon cleaning the counter top while Bob was talking to Spencer. He subtly tried to gaze deeper into the working station of the café but frowned when there was still no sign of Frank anywhere. He then proceeded to walk in front of the counter.

"Hey, Gerard!" Brendon grinned at him.

"Hey, Brendon," Gerard smiled. "Where's Frank?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. He didn't call in sick or anything and I'm kinda worried." He frowned. "But since the weather's pretty shitty, I guess he is sick. I think he's fine," Brendon quickly shook it off, yet he sounded unsure of himself.

"Oh," was all Gerard could say. "Thanks, Brendon. Anyway, we'll be having," he paused, "three of the usual."

"Three?" Brendon raised a brow, "I thought Kristin already ordered her coffee?"

"Yeah, well, I think one cup won't suffice my need for caffeine at the moment." Gerard said, though it sounded more like a question.

"If you say so," Brendon shrugged.

Gerard looked out to the windows of the café. It wasn't snowing too hard out, so there was only a small chance he'd _die_ the moment he steps out and then Mikey'll discover his frozen corpse still clinging onto his two cups of coffee three days later after they dig through the snow that buried his body 10 feet de--

"Black coffee for Gerard! Gerard get your _damn_ black coffee I'm not making the same mistake ever ag--!"

"Brendon, I'm right here," Gerard chuckled as he turned his gaze from the windows and back to Brendon.

Gerard was about to lift the tray when suddenly Brendon gripped one of his wrists lightly. He frowned as Brendon looked back at him with narrow eyes and a sly smile. "What?" Gerard asked.

"You're gonna look for him, aren't you?" Brendon wiggled his eyebrows.

"What?" Gerard repeated, his cheeks resembling the color of his hair.

"Don't _'what'_ me, Gerard. You know what I'm talking about," Brendon laughed lightly.

"I'm - what, no, _no_ I'm not gonna look for him," Gerard chuckled nervously. Brendon just raised a brow at him and he sighed, "Was it really that obvious?"

Brendon smiled, "Doesn't really take much to connect the dots." Gerard just shot him a confused look. "Yeah... whatever. Where do you plan on finding him, though?" Brendon asked.

"I have place in mind," Gerard shrugged.

Brendon pouted when Gerard wouldn't tell him where, but let him get to it anyway. Gerard walked back to their booth and placed the hot cup of coffee in front of Mikey.

"I, uh... I need to go," Gerard said.

"So soon?" Kristin frowned as she took a sip of her cappuccino.

"Yeah, I'm going for a walk. Helps me clear my mind, y'know?" He shrugged. "You two go on a date or something, I know you two well enough to know that you go to too little to no dates."

"Hey!" Mikey pouted.

"Seriously though," Gerard chuckled. "Take Kristin on more dates. Bro, you suck."

"No, _you_ suck." Mikey retorted.

"Was that a gay joke?"

"No, it's the truth."

"Mikey!" Kristin playfully elbowed her boyfriend in mock anger.

"Fuck you!" Gerard yelled though he was laughing only moments after.

"Gotta face the facts, brother," Mikey laughed lightly.

"Yeah, yeah I'll be on my way." Gerard ignored them both as he reluctantly left the café.

Once he was out on the streets, he burried his hands in the pockets of his coat. He breathed out a shaky sigh, "Okay, so I didn't turn into ice, let's do this." And he trudged towards the park where hopefully, the boy with the sad, hazel eyes was at.

**\--------**

Frank sat still as he stared blankly at the fountain right in front of the bench he was sitting on. Five minutes, ten, an hour, three, four? He wasn't sure how long he had been staring - or if he was even staring at anything anymore.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that Frank wasn't sure if he was still blinking, or breathing, even.

His one cigarette was long gone and laid on the cold hard cement next to his shoe which he used to stub it out. He didn't buy another pack after that, heck, he didn't do anything after that. He was physically there, sitting on the bench, but his mind was elsewhere. Where exactly? Anywhere... everywhere.

He thought of his fucked up childhood, how he, from being a happy and normal kid, became this charity case that no one would give a second glance at. And there was this feeling of loneliness and absurdity. He came to realize that he wasn't enough - not enough for his father to keep on living. What if he died? What then would become of his son, Frank? But no, he didn't fight - he didn't have the will to keep living his damn life because what did he have left? A son? Was he even worth living for? Frank wasn't worth it, and now he came to realize it.

A feeling of absurdity came up next because he felt pathetic - pitying himself like this. Just because no one would pity him doesn't mean that he should pity himself.

Every thought in his mind screamed at him to stop pitying himself even if he was pitiable and had every right to express his sorrow. But Frank wouldn't have it, despite what he's been through, he always felt guilty when he'd cry about his problems. _Because guess what?_ He thought, _other people have been through worse._

See, with this mentality, people would think that there was something wrong with him - in his mind, rather. But no, the problem wasn't his way of thinking. It was the hole left in his heart after what he's been through. And somehow, this hole only gets deeper and darker, and the worst part is that it hurt - it _fucking_ hurt so much. Not even a stab to the chest would begin to explain it.

But in no way was he broken. No, he refused to believe that. Because Frank was never whole to even begin with, and something that wasn't whole can't be broken - it could only lose more of it's parts until it's nothing more existent.

Frank could never be whole - metaphorically speaking. His parents died before he could fully understand what it was to be a whole, normal person.

_Normal._

What did that word mean? Frank couldn't remember.

His mind was this helicopter that was spiraling out of control. And if Frank isn't careful enough, he might just come crashing down.

It's overwhelming to realize that the outer part of a person could be so silent yet on the inside, really, they were screaming. And Frank was going through the exact same thing.

And he was just really about to lose his mind, because why are all of his fears crawling back to him all of a sudden? And Frank was just so fucking _exhausted_ of it all that he didn't even have the strength to let out his misery--

"Thought I'd find you here."

Frank was still in a trance as he slowly turned his head to where he thought the voice had come from.

The man was standing behind the light emitted by the sun therefore making him hard to see. Frank saw a silhouette of a boy who held two things by his hands which Frank couldn't figure out what, but what stood out most was the messy and tangled streaks of red hair that almost resembled a bird's nest.

Frank stared at him for a moment before it clicked to him that the boy was actually talking to him.

Frank blinked, "Gerard?"

The fiery red-haired boy took a step closer before he smiled, "In the flesh."

"What are - what're you doing here?"

"Honestly? Looking for you," Gerard blushed.

"Why would you look for me?" Frank frowned.

"Uh... may I?" Gerard asked, gesturing the bench, Frank just nodded.

Once he was seated, he handed Frank one of the cups of coffee. Frank raised a brow.

Gerard smiled nervously, "The weather's pretty shitty, thought you'd want one to warm you up."

Frank stared at the cup for a while before slowly taking it and flashing Gerard a grateful smile

"Thank you," he took a sip, "You haven't answered my question, though."

Gerard pursed his lips, trying to moisten his chapped lips, "You didn't show up at work, why?"

Frank tilted his head, "How'd you know that?"

"I uh... I may or may not have memorized your work schedule by now?" Gerard said sheepishly.

Gerard was absolutely terrified that Frank would be weirded out by now. He's surprised that Frank hasn't been running for the hills yet.

Frank just chuckled, "Okay, not creepy at all."

Gerard blushed. Again.

Frank was contemplating on whether to tell Gerard the truth or not, but after remembering that he was a terrible liar, he went for the former.

"What time is it?" He asked.

Gerard just looked confused as he checked his wristwatch, "it's half past ten, why do you ask?"

Frank frowned, "I've been here for over four hours."

Gerard's eyes widened, "What! Why?"

Frank merely shook his head, "It's a long story."

"I have time," Gerard insisted.

Frank looked at him for a moment as he decided the words he'd choose to say. After a minute, he hadn't thought of anyway to comprehend what was going through his mind, it was like a burst of memories that scattered everywhere in his brain, and he was left to collect them all just so that he wouldn't completely lose it. And it was harder than he thought.

Gerard took the silence as a sign that Frank wasn't comfortable with talking about it. "Hey, you don't have to tell me. I just thought you'd want to get it off your chest," He said.

"Oh believe me, I really do," Frank smiled sadly. "I just don't have the right person to tell it to."

Gerard nodded, "Well, you could tell it to me in vague detail? Then just - I don't know, just let it all out. I don't have to understand it because I don't need to give you advice. You just have to let it out."

"You know, Frank, people don't really need advice. You know why? Because these people who claim they need it, already know what to do, they just want some kind of approval from another person that what they're thinking of doing is, in fact, the right thing to do. So let it out, it'll help you feel better," He encouraged.

"I don't know, Gerard." Frank said, a bit hesitant.

"Just try?"

"I... okay."

Gerard smiled gently at the exhausted boy next to him. From this position, he noticed the skin around Frank's eyes had darken, and his lips were stretched into a somewhat permanent frown that made him look miserable. Exhausted _and_ miserable.

Frank didn't know where to start, so instead, he asked "How do you fix something that can't be fixed?"

Gerard seemed surprised at the sudden question but replied almost immediately, "Maybe it shouldn't be fixed."

"I don't... I don't understand," Frank looked at his lap.

"What exactly is it that you want fixed?" Gerard asked.

"My parents, they... they left this empty void in my heart, it sounds crazy, I know, but... I don't know any other way to describe it. And they said that in time, that hole would heal but it didn't - everyday it just gets deeper and it hurts so _much._ They left this hole in my heart and what scares me is that _that_ hole would only continue to grow and eventually it'd consume my entire heart,"

"And what do you think will happen to you if it gets to that?" Gerard asked.

"I'd feel nothing anymore," Frank admitted. "And I just want to be fixed, Gerard, I... I don't know what to do anymore."

"Okay, I'll explain, I uh..." Gerard pursed in lips as he thought of how to make his answer clear to him.

"Let's say that you're a guitar - just go with it. So when you play a guitar, it produces this beautiful sound, right? But then one of the strings break, what do you do? You try to fix it. But fixing something means that you use the parts that broke and try to repair it. And to do that, you like - try to tie up or bind the broken string again."

"And then you play the guitar again, but it doesn't produce the same sound anymore. Like something is wrong or missing. This is when you realize that one string, though just a small part, it plays a big role in the function of the guitar. Of course, the guitar would still work and it would still produce sound, but it would never be the same. So, to save the entire thing, you don't fix it, you change the broken parts - you replace it. You buy new strings and fit it where the broken string was and then - then the guitar is fixed." Gerard explained.

And for a few more minutes, there was only silence. The sound of people walking around them and the fountain in front of them easily became a background noise as the two men stared at the space between them on the bench.

Gerard once again broke the silence, "Now let's relate this to you. You are the guitar, Frank. And the string that broke? That's the void in your heart. Such a small thing, yet it has a big effect on you. Of course you could still survive with it, but you wouldn't be living - no, because surviving is just being there, just existing. But living? It comes with purpose. You live for something. You live for someone. There's a huge difference. And until you fill up that void in your heart, you will be stuck on surviving till it drives you crazy - and that's not healthy."

"Replace... you said, how do I - what do you mean by that?" Frank looked him.

"You said your parents caused that hole in your heart. Your parents offer you that feeling of comfort, safety, and love, and you lost that. Worst case scenario would be when you can't fix things between you and your parents. So you fill up that hole they left with another person,"

"Someone who comforts you, someone you feel safe with. Someone who makes you feel loved," Gerard shrugged.

And for another moment, Frank just stared at Gerard. And Gerard didn't know for sure but Frank was staring at him with eyes that glistened in pure adoration, like Gerard had just a answered all his problems. And maybe, just maybe, he did.

Gerard blushed once it sunk into him that he had just told Frank a theory in which he compares Frank to a _freaking_ guitar. With the silence still on going, he began to panic that he had weirded him out this time.

"I'm sorry, uh... haha, I don't know what I'm saying--"

Frank placed his coffee next to him on the bench before wrapping his arms around Gerard.

And here he was, hugging Gerard, _again._

But this time, it didn't feel like he was hugging a stranger, it felt like hugging an old friend. And Frank drowned himself in Gerard's sweet vanilla scent.

"I feel a bit better hearing that," Frank confessed.

"I'm glad," Gerard smiled.

The two both broke away from the hug, shivering a bit once their body heat left each other's touch.

"People told me that you get to know a person more based on what they believe in," Gerard stated out of the blue.

Frank raised an eyebrow at the random statement

"This is me telling you that I want to get to know you better, Frank," Gerard chuckled.

"Oh," Frank blushed for a while, but then frowned.

"Did I say something wrong?" Gerard asked.

"No, no you didn't, I just... okay this may sound unusual but... I don't know what I believe in," Frank admitted sheepishly.

Gerard tilted his head in confusion.

Frank breathed out a deep sigh, "With everything that's happening, nothing just seems real anymore. All I know is that I want to wake up one day and be able to tell myself that I'm okay."

Gerard nodded in understanding, "That's okay, not knowing what to believe, I meant. You don't have to always know."

"I want to know what your beliefs are, though," Frank said.

"Well I... I don't know where to start," Gerard laughed lightly.

"Start with family?" Frank suggested.

"Okay... I believe that not every house is a home," Gerard paused. "But I also believe that not every home has to be a house."

Frank remained silent, just waiting for him to go on,

"I believe that a home could be a place, a feeling, a time. Home could be with your family, home could be with... someone. Someone that matters to you the most," Gerard smiled at Frank.

And once again, Frank's eyes had those look of adoration in them, like Gerard held the stars, the moon, like he was the sun - everything revolved around him.

It was only for a short moment, but the look overwhelmed Gerard nonetheless. And he found himself staring at Frank in the eyes, his smile stretching even wider.

"That's nice, Gerard," Frank said. "I hope to see things that way someday."

Gerard blushed at the complement before turning to face Frank again. This time, with a serious look, "Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

Frank smiled sadly, "not yet."

Gerard returned the sad smile, "someday, you will be."

 

**➹**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that sucked, I'm not good at this stuff now am I? Dan Oh well, I'll work on that. Anyway, I hope you miraculously liked that. Tell me what you think so far? and as always I'll update asap!
> 
> ✘gee✘


End file.
